


Ripened to the Fall

by sieghart



Series: Our Place Among the Infinities [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Childhood Memories, Childhood Sweethearts, F/M, Fluff, One Shot, Past Our Satellites - Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-01
Updated: 2016-08-01
Packaged: 2018-07-28 17:30:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7649956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sieghart/pseuds/sieghart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jon Stark and Sansa Targaryen enjoy an afternoon at the Red Keep's godswood.</p>
<p>[or the missing scene from my fic Past Our Satellites—the one Sansa mentioned in one of her letters to Jon]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ripened to the Fall

**Author's Note:**

  * For [loke_21](https://archiveofourown.org/users/loke_21/gifts).



> This is actually a prompt fill! loke_21 asked if I could write this as a one-shot, so here we are!
> 
> I do suggest you read my fic Past Our Satellites to gain the full context of this scene, but I did try to write it as a standalone mini fic.
> 
> To those who’ve just heard of my ongoing fic, all you need to know is that it’s an AU story where Robert’s Rebellion never happened and we got Sansa Targaryen & Jon Stark in the process.

“You’re doing it wrong!”

“What am I doing wrong?”

Sansa watched as Jon let his knuckles collapsed after pulling the gut strings of her special-crafted wooden harp. “That isn’t how you’re supposed to pluck the strings. Or do you want to get bloody fingers after all?”

With brows contorted, Jon tried again, sliding his fingers across the strings quickly playing the scale. He wasn’t relaxing his hands as often though and it decreased the sound quality of the song he’s playing.  “No?” he’d asked, even though the curling of his lips suggested that he knew exactly the answer to his question.

Sansa shook her head in disbelief and pushed herself closer to him. They were currently sitting on a wool cloth, having decided to steal away from the hustle in the palace due to the preparations for her brother Rhaegar’s thirty-seventh nameday. A picnic in the godswood with just the two of them sounded pleasant a plan as autumn provided occasional cool air in the capital during the afternoons, and make for a wonderful scenery with the red, yellow, orange, and brown leaves scattered on the earth. Acres of elm, alder, black cottonwood trees, and great oaks provided them abundant shade from the sun to boot as they faced Blackwater Rush, Lady and Ghost both playing along the riverbank.

“You’ve forgotten it?”

Jon shrugged as though him, forgetting to play the harp when he’s learned it during his formative years, wasn’t big a deal.

“I can’t believe you,” declared Sansa as she raised her brows to him.

“It’s been years the last time I held a harp, princess.”

Sansa resisted to roll her eyes, and just snatched her harp from Jon’s lap. She placed it on her own and grabbed Jon’s fingers to entangle with hers. “Here, I’ll show you.”

The prince shifted from his seat as Sansa’s act pulled him in an uncomfortable angle towards her body. She heard him clear his throat as he wrapped his left arm around her so that he could touch the harp from the left side.

The princess just nodded and then emphasized for Jon to close the fingers and thumb into the palm after playing a note, to get the sound out of the harp as well as minimize the risk of injury. She first showed him how to do it with her right hand guiding his, and then went to observe as he repeated the process without her direction. Of course, he must remember how to do it, but Jon kept doing the opposite from her instructions.

Sansa blew out a breath. “Okay, let’s try out a song.”

Hand positioning: two fingers, then three, then four, the princess started to play the song “Off to Crownlands” Jon and Rhaegar gifted her on her eight nameday—the beautiful thing about harps was that one can easily memorize the shapes of commonly used chords which in turn simplified note reading, and the said song was easy enough to play with its repetitive chords.

Her nephew though, kept messing up with the notes, moving their linked fingers up and down, and skipping around that the song ended up sounding like a war cry rather than an ode of love.

“If you keep this up Jon, I swear…” Sansa warned. And even though she couldn’t see his face completely as they were both facing forward and eyes glued to the gut strings, she knew that there was a smile plastered on his somber face. The princess could _hear_ it.

Jon took control of their entwined fingers then, obviously knowing the chords but plucking the wrong strings to rile her so. “Jon! I swear I shall be cross with you!”

The princess pulled away to fully look at him and his folly. The two of them shared a look—Jon’s somber face trying so hard to appear innocent and Sansa couldn’t stop herself from bursting into a laugh any more than she could stop the sun from setting. The two of them laughed, long and loud and lighthearted. Then, a sudden gust of wind ruffled the leaves of the trees in the godswood, creating a sound much like the strong currents of the flowing river before them. It circled them and snatched at their hairs and the princess spied Jon looking at her strangely. His full lips were slightly opened and brow a little furrowed, as if he just let out a sigh. And Jon, who has always favored his Stark look, now has his Targaryen roots showing, if the heat from his grey eyes was enough an indication.

And gods be good but Sansa’s heart started to beat faster at the sight. She felt something flutter low within her and the princess forced herself to look away. And it was a feat since Jon’s eyes seemed to grab hold of her, pulling her in, trying to say something, trying to ask if it was okay—

—and Sansa wasn’t ready to fully meet such gaze and so she looked away.

After, when the air stilled again and the wind well away from them, leaving them (and her heart) out of sorts, Jon spoke, “We’ve never actually quarreled, haven’t we? Do you suppose now’s a good time?”

It wasn’t very ladylike to snort but she would as like do so, due to Jon’s ribbing. “Oh, you’ve become insufferable. Is this Harry’s influence on you?”

The prince bawled his hand into a fist and thumped it on his doublet, temporarily exchanging his knightly garb as they were on a break from their stations in life (she, donning a simple pale blue gown that belonged to her handmaiden Shae). “I cannot, on good conscience, embroil my brother-in-arms. If you believe me to be insufferable, then I am mostly that.”

“Stop it, Jon!” Sansa whined as she felt another bubble of mirth rising from within her.

Said prince grinned widely. “I won’t. Now that you’ve turned a very pretty pomegranate.”

Oh, he knew how she hated that very sort of mockery on her person, but instead of being irked the way she used to and responding with pursed lips and narrowed eyes, Sansa only crinkled her nose and refuted with, “I’m sure I’m the prettiest pomegranate you’ve ever beheld with your mortal eyes.”

Jon chuckled, and with a low voice he’d conceded, his hand reaching for his nape to rub it. “The prettiest.”

And poor was Sansa’s heart as it skipped several beats once more.

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Hope you guys liked it, despite its shortness!  
> 2\. I've said this, and I'm repeating it here: I've been meaning to write a few Jon/Sansa oneshots so if you have any prompts, please head to my tumblr account: http://ficklejam.tumblr.com/ and PM me or send an ask with your prompt in it? Or if you just want to talk about my fic there, or fangirl with me about Jon/Sansa, you could totally do that as well :)  
> 3\. Fic title came from Robert Frost's poem October; Series' title came from Robert Frost's poem The Star-Splitter (wow, do I love this guy)


End file.
